Somewhere Under the Fault Line
by regina welch
Summary: Buffy and Dawn fall into the Merry Old Land of Oz. Wackiness ensues. Rated R for strong sexual language (Chapter 5 and later). *Complete.*
1. A Prophecy Revealed.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Big duh.  
  
Rating: R for sex talk (Chapter 5 and later).  
  
Situation: Set just after Hell's Bells, but AYW never happened, so no Spuffy breakup. Also, it's slightly AU from The Gift: When Giles killed Ben, Glory escaped through the open portal to a different dimension. Now she wants her key back to reopen the portal to get to her own dimension. Again. Oh, and Giles never left Sunnydale and Tara is a regular, too. Kay? Also, Buffy is brunette and always has been (I mean, in this story she hasn't been dying her hair blonde all these years!!! SMG looks so much cuter with brown hair, don't you think? I loved her as Kendall!!!). Just read, it all makes sense.  
  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to all the TWoPers for the funny, funny fic. Special props to JeannieK75 for inspiring me with this idea.  
  
Feedback: I'll inseminate myself with octuplets and give all 8 first-borns away to the first eight reviewers if you'll PLEEZE send me feedback!!!!!  
  


**********************************************  


  
_Somewhere, I call it heaven, way up high,  
There's a land that went to  
Once, though I had to die.  
Somewhere way up in heaven  
Skies are blue.  
And my mommy who died last year  
Rests peacefully up there, too.  
Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where this life is far behind me.  
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,  
Away above the chimney tops.  
That's where you'll find me.  
Somewhere high up in heaven,  
Are people who've died.  
People die, then rest in heaven,  
Why then - oh, why can't I?  
If happy little people die  
Eternally in heaven,  
Why, oh, why can't I?  
_  
Buffy whistled a sad tune as she let herself into Giles's apartment.  
  
Ah, Buffy, thank goodness you're here, Giles said.  
  
Buffy sat down on the couch between Willow, who was chugging a gallon-size bottle of Evian, and Xander, who was eating his third pizza of the afternoon. She ran her hand through her luxurious chocolate-colored locks. What's up, big prophecy or something?  
  
Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Gesturing to the shy witch across the room, he continued, It appears Tara has found something rather interesting in the Mrmfrrd Report.  
  
Buffy stifled a giggle. You mean, the volumey text? That really exists?  
  
Giles replied. And according to this text, on this date the Slayer and the Key will be, er, sucked into another dimension to face the wrath of an ensnared hellgod.  
  
Buffy hopped up off her seat. Glory again? Damn, I know this one. I have to get home to protect Dawn. This is getting way beyond annoying. And with that, she was out the door.  
  
But Buffy... Giles called after her. He never got a chance to tell her that though the Slayer and the Key would pass through to another dimension, only one would return. Tara bowed her head shyly.  
  
Willow and Xander continued sitting there stuffing their faces, each according to his particular vice.


	2. The Hardest Thing in this World is to Li...

Buffy ran home with all the Slayer speed she could muster. As she rounded the corner to Revello Drive, though, the earth began to violently quake. Oh, Goddess, an earthquake, she panted. From the opposite end of the street, she could hear Dawn's piercing, terrified scream.  
  
she cried, just as she spotted her sister clinging desperately to the front porch rail, as a giant fissure opened in the front yard.  
  
As Buffy approached, the teenager steeled her resolve. I'm the Key, Buffy. Only I can stop this. With that, she dove into the fault.  
  
Bracing herself on Spike's tree as the earth continued to shake, Buffy pondered Dawn's statement. What the hell? That makes no sense. But I know what comes next. I have to do this. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. And she jumped into the fissure herself. The earth's violent shaking stopped, the fissure sealed up, the grass grew back over the lawn, and the structural damage to the house patched itself right up. Because apparently Buffy was the key. Or something.


	3. Really not dead.

Buffy yawned and stretched, awakening slowly. At once she remembered what had just happened, and her slayer senses went on high alert. The sun was shining (but not too bright), the grass was green and soft, and a gentle warm breeze rustled through the trees in the glade. Am I finally back in heaven? she wondered aloud. She turned around and saw Dawn still apparently unconscious behind her. Oh, never mind.  
  
I heard that, Dawn snotted, opening her eyes. You thought you were in heaven, but you can't be because I'm here.  
  
Yeah, that about sums it up, Buffy replied, then covered quickly, I mean, um, I just remembered Giles told me about this prophecy that you and I would be sucked into an alternate dimension today because Glory is after you again. So that's where we are. She concluded wistfully, Not dead.  
  
But I thought Glory died last May when Giles killed Ben?  
  
Yeah, well, I died that night, too, and a fat lot of good it did me, Buffy fumed silently.  
  
I know what you're thinking, Dawn said.  
  
Shut up.  
  
Just then the sisters' bickering was interrupted by the arrival of a short-statured young man dressed in old-fashioned regal attire.  
  
Buffy exclaimed. What are you doing here? Is this some kind of world-domination plot? And have you been shopping at the same store as Tara, because I gotta say--  
  
She was cut off as the little man burst into song.  
  
_As Mayor of Fanfic City  
In the County of the Land of Oz,  
I welcome you most regally,  
But we've got to verify it legally,  
To see  
If she  
Is morally, ethically, positively, absolutely, undeniably, or reliably dead._  
  
An Andrew lookalike stepped out from behind a tree, and continued the song while poking at Buffy.  
  
_As coroner,  
I must aver,  
I've thoroughly examined her,  
And she's not even nearly dead,  
She's really sincerely not dead!_  
  
Mayor Jonathan stepped back and proclaimed the joyous news: Yes let the joyous news be spread, our visitor here is truly not dead!  
  
Rub it in, why don't you, Buffy muttered, not really caring.  
  
But Dawn was incensed. Hey, what about me? Don't you people even care if I'm dead or alive? It's all about Buffy for you isn't it? Well, okay, she's the slayer and that's important. But I'm important too! I'm the key to the whole universe! I swear it's true! Look at meeeeee!  
  


**********************************************  


But only one gazing upon this scene paid the slightest bit of attention to Dawn. Glory, wearing a green avocado beauty masque, stared at the sisters through the red haze of her crystal ball. I'll get you my pretty, and your little Key, too! she cackled.  
  
Hey, minions, isn't it time to exfoliate yet?


	4. Is this story ever going anywhere?

Buffy was beginning to feel overwhelmed at the welcome she was receiving from the kind people of Fanfic Land. Hordes of people had come out, come out, wherever they were. First, the Fluffyfic Guild had given her a fluffy kitten (which she passed off to Dawn, hoping Spike would never get his hands on it); then the Spuffyfic Guild gave her a pair of handcuffs and lube (which she looked forward to using when Spike got his hands on her later); when the B/A-ship Guild tried to give her a stern talking-to, she decided she'd had enough of that. All right, I really appreciate all your gifts, but can you maybe pile these things up in a corner and I'll pick them up later? Dawn and I need to get home.  
  
You want to leave? Mayor Jonathan asked, pain evident in his voice. But you just got here. And you're alive. Not dead. And we haven't even done Ding Dong She Isn't Dead' or We Welcome You to Fanfic Land' yet.  
  
Yeah, I know, but you might be evil and the whole thing is getting tiresome and Dawn and I really don't belong here. We need to get home. Are you going to help us or are you going to keep singing songs?  
  
Well, I've never left Fanfic Land. I wouldn't know how, the Mayor sighed.  
  
I can help you. Buffy spun around to see where the voice had come from.  
  
Tara! God, you scared me. How long have you been here?  
  
Goddess. And my name isn't Tara, I'm Glinda, the good witch.  
  
You're not Tara, Buffy repeated, disbelieving But you look just like Tara, except that you're wearing that strange pink, corset-y dress that looks like it belongs a hundred years--But you look exactly like Tara.  
  
You must be mistaken. Now, I don't have the power to send you home. The only other one who might is the great and powerful Wizard named Oz, and he lives far away in the Precious String City.  
  
Precious String City? What kind of a name is that? Buffy scoffed.  
  
Well it used to be the Emerald City, but wound up string is so much more popular for jewelry nowadays, it was changed by popular consensus. So don't you want to know how to get there?  
  
Yeah, that. How do I get to Precious String City to get help from the Wizard named Oz?  
  
Oh, that's easy. Just follow the Purple Prose Road. The denizens of Fanfic Land immediately burst into song, and pushed Buffy and Dawn along on their merry way.  
  
_Follow the Purple Prose Road.  
Follow the Purple Prose Road.  
Follow, follow, follow, follow,  
Follow the Purple Prose Road.  
  
Follow the Purple Prose   
Follow the Purple Prose   
Follow the Purple Prose Road.  
  
You're off to see the Wizard,  
The wonderful Wizard named Oz!_


	5. Yep. The Eunuch sings.

_Follow the Purple Prose Road!  
Follow the Purple Prose Road!  
_  
Buffy and Dawn strolled languorously down the violet-hued path, their arms interlocked, but their spirits distanced by a gulf a mile wide and ten fathoms down, with a frigid lake of cerulean blue at its depths. The elder girl, her bob of dark hair slightly feathered by the caress of the warm breeze, wore a grim expression as she pondered the task at hand.... How many times in her young life had she been called upon to throw herself into the fray, grunting, kicking, and perspiring thick dewey beads of sweat, all to save the lives of the innocent, the ignorant, the uninformed but reasonably innocuous?.... How many times had her dear, sweet sister, she of the cherubic cheeks and baby-soft, pettable hair, her limbs once chubby and childish, then lanky and awkward, now finally elongated and graceful like the soft, sweet neck of a swan, been the recipient of her elder sister's efforts?.... How long could one sentence, roundabout and convoluted, supplemented with verbose verbiage and excessive ellipses, oddly detailed tangents and jarring changes of tone from calm to violent to pleasant to satirical, and prolonged examples that serve only to illustrate one minute detail (not to mention parenthetical phrases, which, in their essential parenthetical nature, tend to veer inexorably away, like a cool rocky mountain spring trickling slowly into the stream in the verdant rolling foothills, onward still to the mighty river, rushing and churning in its rapids, flowing finally into the calm mass of the ocean, with its gently rolling waves, salt spray, pirate ships, and marine life like sea stars, kelp, shrimp, tuna, sharks, walruses, and penguins, from the topic at hand), go on?  
  
Buffy stepped off the purple path.   
  
As her effulgent, shiny hair cascaded down her back and over her long, graceful limbs, Dawn, still awash in the warm sunlight and gentle breeze, continued ambling forward as she considered the novel sensation of being far, far away from the familiar haunts of Sunnydale (for in her two years as a living, breathing human being, she'd never once ventured farther than Los Angeles; though she had many sepia-tinged memories of other bright days that had never been, or perhaps had been, but without her in them; the summer in Hawaii when she was four and Buffy, sweet Buffy, was an innocent, rosy-cheeked nine-year-old... together they'd splashed in the gently rolling turquoise waves of the grandest of oceans, with its salt spray, pirate ships, and marine life like penguins, sharks, walruses--  
  
Dawn, get off that road this instant, Buffy demanded. And what the hell is up with your arms--are you growing fur?  
  
Dawn shrieked and hopped off to the side of the road, rubbing her arms furiously. They were covered with fine, silky brown hair. Oh, Goddess. I'm growing fur! What kind of whacked-out dimension is this?  
  
It's not so bad.  
  
Buffy looked around. What? Who said that?  
  
Just me. Just sayin', there's a lot of good things in this world. Buffy finally caught sight of the source of the deep, seductive, British-accented voice that distinctly reminded her of Spike's: a scarecrow strung up in an adjoining field. he continued, looking Buffy up and down appraisingly, You should stick around. It's a right pleasure, gettin' stuffed. He paused a moment, to allow the sexual innuendo to sink in. With fresh straw, that is, if you're a scarecrow like me. Blimey, there's so much in this world to appreciate, watchin' all the pretty birds flutterin' about in the sky. Wish I could just reach out and touch The scarecrow licked his lips, and Buffy nearly melted. He went on, Watchin' all the pretty birds struttin' their assets down that Purple road you've just come off. Wish I could just reach out and--  
  
Before he could finish the thought, Buffy, totally helpless against her hormones, hopped the fence and pressed her body tight against the scarecrow, her right hand drifting downward as her left clutched the man's head and pulled his ear to her lips. Why don't you, then? came her sultry whisper.  
  
Can't. I'm neutered.  
  
Neutered?! What the hell kind of lame storyline is that?  
  
Dunno, pet. Oh, the things I could do to you. Make you scream. But I haven't got a cock.  
  
Tell me, Buffy whispered huskily, still completely in the thrall of her hormones. What would you do to me?  
  
Let me down from this post first, would you, love? Cor, I'm getting stiff up here, but not in a particularly useful way, if you know what I mean. Judging by the lust-glazed look in the slayer's eyes as she helped the high-cheekboned dummy down from the post, she understood all too well.  
  
Right then, what would I do to you? he smirked, raising his eyebrow in a sexy way.  
  
Dawn interjected, Try to keep it R-rated, buddy, I'm still just a kid.  
  
The Scarecrow ignored her and started singing.  
  
_I could while away the hours,  
Conferrin' with your   
Gettin' hard as rock.  
Then my back you'd be scratchin' while  
Your breath was a-catchin'  
If I only had a cock.  
  
I'd devour that sweet honey  
That pours out of your cunny,  
Then shag til you can't walk._  
  
Buffy joined in.  
  
_I gotta say I'm hopin'  
That you'll lick my puckered openin'  
Whether or not you have a cock.  
_  
_Oh, I would suck you dry  
Then screw you by the shore.  
_  
The Scarecrow continued.   
_  
We'd try positions that you've never seen before.  
And then we'll eat, then shag some more.  
  
I'd teach you the meaning of stuffin'  
When we filmed scenes wearing nothing,  
I'd need the biggest sock.  
I would dance and be merry,  
I would pop your cherry,  
If I only had a cock.  
  
_ Buffy sighed. Good song. Hey, we're on our way to see the Wizard named Oz. Maybe he could help you get a cock. Or at least recommend someplace in the Precious String City to buy a decent dildo. In the meantime, you could still attend to my pleasure...  
  
The Scarecrow nodded eagerly, and he and Buffy linked arms and began skipping down the Purple Prose Road, singing.  
  
_We're off to see the Wizard,  
The Wonderful Wizard named Oz...  
  
_Dawn, whose shiny brown fur had thickened considerably in the meantime, lagged behind for a moment. Did they completely forget that I'm even here? I'm 15, and I so should not have heard that. Does anyone in the whole world even care that I exist?! she cried, then ran to catch up with her sister and her new companion.  
  


***************************************  


  
Oh, I care, Key-puppy, I care, Glory sighed into the swirly red image of her crystal ball. I'm just contractually obligated to draw this plot out over an extended period of time. Just you wait, eventually I'll get off my ass and abduct you to suit my needs. In the meantime, how long is this avocado masque supposed to stay on? Soon this thing's going to turn me permanently green!


	6. Tin Willow.

_We're off to see the Wizard,  
The wonderful wizard named Oz...  
_  
Buffy abruptly stopped singing, and as she halted in her tracks her luxuriant brown mane bounced at the sudden motion like a--Buffy stepped off the Purple Prose Road. Did you guys hear something?  
  
Startled by the sudden cessation of their prancing ambulation, the castrated straw man gazed ponderously at his fetching young mistress with her creamy skin and chocolate locks, like a human ice cream sandwich only more decadent and less fattening (or so one would hope; he hadn't yet had occasion to taste this delectable treat), and felt a stirring in the straw, but of course it was only straw, perhaps a bit of wind, but not wind in the British slang sense (although he was British, or at least tried to sound British)--  
  
Oh, would you two get off the road already, this could be important! Plus that joke's been done already she cried as she pulled the Scarecrow and her furry little sister into the brush. She extended her Slayer senses. I heard something. It sounded... squeaky.  
  
_Squeak squeak._  
  
Yeh, cor, I bloody well heard it, too, the Scarecrow observed, using more than twice as many words as minimally necessary even though they were all trying to be quiet. he pointed, rather a bit more succinctly.  
  
Following the Scarecrow's gesture, Buffy looked over to see--well, it looked like Willow, unmoving and hunched over in what had to be a very uncomfortable position next to a woodshed. She looked... shiny and silver. Buffy inquired. Did you Bedazzle your _entire_ outfit? Or no, wait, you finally finished up all the tinfoil from Dawn's little jewelry fad. Goddess, Will, I told you we'd use that up eventually for sandwiches and stuff. This is just weird. And why aren't you moving?  
  
the Scarecrow intoned Britishly as he bent down beside the silver Willow.  
  
Buffy gazed appreciatively at the view. Oh, yes, there, she sighed.  
  
Think she needs some lube, he declared.  
  
Oh, no need. I'm ready now, Big Boy, Buffy whispered huskily.  
  
Dawn said something noticeable for the first time this chapter. Anybody else going, ew? It wasn't noticeable to the lustbunnies, of course.  
  
Good to know, the Scarecrow replied, waggling his eyebrows, but not what I meant. Pass me that oil can there, this chap's rusted over.  
  
As the Scarecrow finished servicing the tin-person's joints in a completely nonsexual way (except perhaps in Buffy's hormone-addled imagination), the stranger was finally able to move and speak.  
  
she said, stretching upright. Thanks so much for the oil. Hey, can I get a bit more on my elbow here? Scarecrow obliged, again in a completely nonsexual way.  
  
Willow, is that you? Buffy inquired. Or are you some kind of alterna-Willow, like when Jonathan and Tara had no idea what I was talking about, and Spike here--well, I thought he was Spike anyway. Buffy sidled up close to the person who externally resembled her best friend wearing a tin can and whispered conspiratorially, Then I felt him up, and he's actually made out of straw. Honest to goodness straw. How freaky is that? She had apparently forgotten for the moment that her wild sexcapades with Spike were a tawdry secret she'd never dare reveal for fear of what her friends would think of her.  
  
She needn't have worried even if she had remembered, though, as the tin-person's response was the oh-so-articulate,   
  
Alterna-Willow it is, then, the slayer observed. Hey, mind if I call you Tin Willow? The pronouns are wearing a bit thin here, especially with this failing attempt at gender ambiguity.  
  
Yeah, sure, Tin Willow breathed heavily out of her mouth to Buffy, then turned to the Scarecrow, shaking slightly. More oil, please. I need it. I don't quite feel myself yet.  
  
Yeah, you're not the only one not getting felt, the Scarecrow replied, gazing meaningfully at Buffy while servicing Tin Willow's needs, again in a totally nonsexual way.  
  
I still need more oil! Tin Willow cried, exasperated.  
  
Now listen here, missy, the Scarecrow scolded, or is it mister? What the bloody hell are you anyway, tin can?  
  
Huh-wha? Mister. Definitely mister now. Used to be totally in the missy camp, so very mister now. What does it matter anyway? I need more oil!  
  
You're really pretty androgynous, Buffy observed.  
  
No, no androgynous! Mister. Fully and completely mister now!  
  
'Ere, Mister, ave you got a cock?  
  
Well, no, Tin Willow responded glumly.  
  
Bollocks, neither ave I, doesn't prove anything, I s'pose.  
  
Right, and anyway all that matters is I need more oil! Urgently!  
  
Whoa, Tin Willow, chill. Why so desperate for oil? You seem fine now, Buffy soothed.  
  
Tin Willow responded by bursting into song.  
  
_When a person's made of metal  
His tummy should feel settled,  
And yet mine churns and boils.  
But I know I'd feel right purty  
If I had one little squirty,  
If I only had more oil.  
_  
With the second verse, he began to dance spastically.  
  
_I could move so nice and easy,  
My limbs all sweet and greasy,  
My skin as smooth as foil.  
I'd get down, I'd be groovin',  
I'd be little Sir Smooth Movin'  
If you'd let me chug that oil.  
  
Picture me - all squeak free,  
As I tip my jaunty hat,  
Oh, dear, no--what's that?  
Is that rust? (scrape scrape)  
Unjust!  
_  
Tin Willow's melodic pleading grew frantic, as he grabbed the Scarecrow by his shirt and tried to wrench the oilcan from his hand.  
  
_Please give me that can, mister.  
Won't you help me, sister?  
I'm rusty from my toil.  
I could stop with the shaking  
And my whiny bellyaching,  
If I only had more oil.  
_  
Tin Willow, I think you may have an oil problem, Buffy observed. Oil can be a very useful thing, especially for someone made of metal like you, but if you start using it all the time, even for little things, you could get addicted. Like addicts do. I think you're addicted to oil, Tin Willow. Let us help you get better.  
  
Will you give me more oil?  
  
No, Tin Willow, there's only a little bit left so we need to save it for an emergency, and even then you'll have to refuse to use it at all costs because you're addicted. Buffy soothed the metal man gently, leaning in close but not so close as to coat her stylish yet affordable leather skirt in the oil that covered Tin Willow's chassis. Come with us to Precious String City. There the Wizard named Oz is going to help me get home, and give the Scarecrow here a cock. Or at the very least a dildo. He could help you defeat your addiction. Some kind of oil-methadone. Or maybe a Bedazzler.  
  
But could he give me more oil? Tin Willow questioned, hope evident in his eyes.  
  
Uh, maybe, Will, I guess...  
  
Well, let's go, then! Tin Willow cried, jumping up and dragging the massively oversized Scotch terrier that was Dawn down the Purple Prose road, singing.  
  
_We're off to see the wizard  
The wonderful wizard named Oz...  
  
_The Scarecrow held Buffy back for a moment as the others skipped ahead. Cor, pet, how come Tin Can Man gets named after one of your buddies, an' I just go by a title, The Scarecrow'? Do I go around calling you the bint' or the Slayer'?  
  
Well, actually, yeah, Sp--I mean, yeah, that is pretty adversarial and impersonal. How's about I call you Spikecrow from now on? It oughta help prevent confusion now that new characters keep popping up, anyhow.  
  
Cor, it's bloody brilliant, innit? Spikecrow exclaimed. In fact, I like it so much that I-- and he pulled her onto the Purple Prose road and started whispering in her ear....  
  


****************************************  
  


Her toenails still needed work. She'd have to get that new minion--what was his name? Slinky? Something stupid. He'd have to do it over.  
  
Oh! Glory looked up, a bit surprised. I'm still in this story? Oh, well, um, next chapter I'll make my move. The key shall be mine!  
  
She glanced back down to her toes. Hey, Slinky, get your ass in here pronto!


	7. Demons and Hellgods and Vamps--Oh, My!

The group finally reunited (Tin Willow had stopped skipping ahead after a short distance because Spikecrow still had his only oilcan), they continued on their way, singing as they pranced, arms linked, along the Purple Prose Road.  
  
A few hours later, taking a much-needed break from singing, the trio of travelers marched single file along the side of the road. Buffy took the lead because she was the Slayer and had to take care of everything herself. Spikecrow followed next, taking advantage of his position behind Buffy to tickle her erotically with straw. Even though it seemed as if this would be rather uncomfortable and rough (not to mention itchy), it gave Buffy the best orgasms of her life. After all, Spikecrow was doing it to her. She liked what he did to her. Tin Willow marched behind Spikecrow, focusing intently on his own heavy breathing and on moving his right knee _just so_ with each step, to test the adage the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Okay, so a knee isn't the same thing as a wheel, but Tin Willow was jonesing for a fix. Because he was addicted to oil.  
  
Oh, and Dawn was there, too. She was acting sullen and kicking the dirt as she walked, perhaps because no one was paying any attention to her. No, that was nothing new. More likely because she looked like a giant overgrown dog with very, very long and very, very shiny hair. So maybe more like a cross between a terrier and Cousin It from the Addams Family, if Cousin It were an ancient dimensional key with shiny, shiny hair.  
  
Hey guys, Dawn queried, attempting to draw attention to herself, do you think there's anything big and scary in these woods, maybe something that would abduct me, forcing Buffy to acknowledge my existence long enough to come to my rescue?  
  
Oh, mmmmnnn, no! Stop that! Buffy cried, even as she drew Spikecrow's hands closer, encouraging to continue his ministrations. Because she really enjoyed his ministrations. If he were more the political type, she was certain she'd enjoy his administrations, too. Mmmm, Spike in a charcoal-grey business suit, his briefcase filled with-- Buffy miraculously managed to wrench her mind back to her sister's whiny question long enough to answer dutifully, Dawnie, there's nothing left that's big and scary enough that I can't beat it. Demons, a hellgod, and vamps. Been there, done that, died and came back again. That's why I'm so bored with my life now, all our demons are internal, and the sense of metaphor is deader than I'll probably ever get to be again.  
  
Still continuing his ministrations, Spikecrow leaned in close to Buffy's ear, and all thoughts of Dawn (if any) were forgotten. Cor, I'll bet you give a great slay, pet. Wish I could've seen some of the moves you used on those demons and hellgods and vamps. Buffy moaned softly.  
  
Demons and hellgods and vamps, Spikecrow chanted, Demons and hellgods and vamps--  
  
Oh, my!  
  
Demons and hellgods and vamps--  
  
Oh, my!  
  
Demons and hellgods and vamps--  
  
Oh, my!  
  
Demons and hellgods and vamps--  
  
Before this disturbing scene could continue for too much longer, an enormous furry beast jumped out of the bushes. Buffy shoved Spikecrow back off of her and took a defensive stance. What do you want? she challenged.  
  
The beast, a massive, rotund lion with the face of a man--with the face of _Xander_, Buffy quickly noted--growled, then casually rattled off his order: A beer, one of those fried cheese platters if you have it, a Supremo Burger with lots of onions and extra cheese, no pickle, and a side of fries. And a large chocolate shake and apple pie a la mode for dessert.  
  
Buffy responded, I don't have any of that stuff. I'm not a restaurant. For that matter, none of us have any food at all. Spikecrow here is made of straw and Tin Willow is made of tin, so neither one of them needs to eat.  
  
the beast sighed, chastened. He didn't bother asking whether Buffy had any food for herself because it was obvious from looking at her that she hadn't eaten in years. And naturally, he didn't notice Dawn standing there at all. I'm sorry to have bothered you. It's just that I'm so very hungry. I'm wasting away! All I have is this one pork chop, side of bacon, gallon of chocolate pudding, and case of potato chips to last me through the night.  
  
Tin Willow tried to surreptitiously sneak some bacon grease out of the lion's stash (because he was addicted to oil), but backed off when he growled at him.  
  
Oh, dear. Well, my friends and I are headed to Precious String City where the Wizard named Oz is going to solve all our problems. I bet there are a lot of restaurants and grocery stores in Precious String City he could recommend. Maybe you could come with us to get more food? Buffy suggested. Although, if you ask me, you don't look even remotely close to starvation. And you're way cute with all that fur. I'm going to call you Furry Xander. Buffy stroked his soft mane, and Furry Xander purred, even though he wasn't a vampire.  
  
Dawn interjected, I've been furry for a while now, and you never once said that I was cute this way. You never even said anything at all!  
  
Furry Xander recovered from his purring fit. The Wizard named Oz could give me more food? I am deeply and profoundly in love with that idea. I'm ready. With that, he took his turn to burst into song.  
  
_Though I may seem round and puffy,  
I need carbs and sweets, dear Buffy,  
Meat products, fried or stewed;  
Ice cream, cheese, and other dairy'd  
Keep my manly chest all hairy  
If I only had more food.  
  
I'd forget the pain of famine,  
Gulp down fries, sweet lard n' ham n'  
Not wait until I'd chewed.  
  
I'd be a glutton with a gizzard....  
_  
Tin Willow and Spikecrow chimed in,  
  
_I'd not rust in a blizzard....  
  
I'd be slimy as a lizard....  
_  
The group linked arms once again and resumed skipping down the road as they sang together,  
  
_If the Wizard is a Wizard who is good.  
Then I'm sure to get  
  
A cock,  
  
Some oil,  
_  
Tara--er, sorry, Glinda appeared in a little bubble out of nowhere and belted out a line in her melodic singing voice.  
  
_A spine,  
  
_Then she floated away again._  
  
A home,  
  
More food!  
_  
  
The happily prancing gang suddenly dispersed and leapt off to the sides of the road as two wart-covered creatures with monkey tails swooped down from the sky.  
  
Wart-covered flying monkeys! Tin Willow exclaimed. I wonder what they might need that they can ask the Wizard named Oz for in Precious String City. But they were already gone. Oh, and they'd taken Dawn-puppy with them, but nobody even noticed and nobody even cared. Never mind that, then, I guess, Tin Willow continued, visibly shaking. Let's get going, I need more oil and soon! The Wizard named Oz will make us all very happy for the rest of our lives! He is exactly what we need to make our lives complete! Buffy and Spikecrow rose hastily from their position in the bushes and brushed themselves off. Buffy had straw in all kinds of places she didn't want to think about now.  
  
But Furry Xander remained in his position hunched over on the other side of the road, glassy-eyed and rocking back and forth.  
  


*************************************  


  
_I've brought you a zebra, Mama Lion said softly, laying the kill before her mate. I do hope it pleases you, darling.  
  
Papa Lion roared, This zebra is skin and bones! How dare you present me with such a puny kill again? You're a poor excuse for a lioness and I don't know how I ever put up with the likes of you! Get back out there and don't show yourself again until you've brought me something edible. This thing's barely worthy of that furry little runt of yours.  
  
Mama Lion protested, the ladies and I, preying on the weak and the old--it is our way!  
  
IT IS NOT MY WAY! Papa Lion roared. Bring me something MEATY! he cried, and stormed out of the den.  
  
Mama Lion brushed a tear from her eye and nudged the kill toward her litter of cubs. Here you are little ones. Eat up now, eat your fill. That's right....  
_  


*************************************  


  
Furry Xander mumbled, No, no, I can't go to Precious String City to ask the Wizard named Oz for more food. _He's a good wizard from what I hear, and he deserves better than this._  
  
What the hell, Furry Xander? Buffy asked. You were completely in love with the idea a few minutes ago.  
  
No, I can't go, I'm sorry, so sorry, I can't do it, Furry Xander mumbled on. Someday, I'd love to, but I just can't.  
  
Oh, for crying out loud! Buffy hoisted Furry Xander over her shoulder and stepped onto the Purple Prose road. Her petite frame bore the weight of the timid carnivore as she pressed forward, pondering all the while the future she and her new friends, the straw man with the superlative rock-hard straw abs, whose ministrations never failed to bring her great oceans of cascading waterfalls of pleasure; the woman or man or whatever it was, whose tin body reflected the otherworldly sunlight with a glinting brilliance matched only by the stars; and the soft corpulent feline slung across her shoulder, would face at the end of the long and winding road the hue of violets in late spring when the sun's rays. . .


	8. The Angsty Old Land of Joss

Previously on _Somewhere Under the Fault Line_...  
  
As foretold by the prophecy in the renowned Mrmfrrrd Report, Buffy and Dawn both tried to kill themselves, kicking and screaming and hair-pulling along the way. Er, that is, they fell into a fissure that led to an alternate dimension known as the Land of Oz. They set off down the Purple Prose road and met some eerily familiar characters along the journey:  
  
-Spikecrow, a hard-bodied British straw man who doesn't have a cock, but oh the things he could do if he did...  
  
-Tin Willow, a MALE NOW! redhead made of metal who is addicted! to oil.  
  
-Furry Xander, a very puffy, very hungry lion.  
  
  
Now everybody's trying to get to the Precious String City where the Wizard named Oz will grant them their hearts' desire.  
  
Oh, and Dawn got transformed into an overgrown dog and abducted by Glory's warty monkey-tailed minions. Nobody noticed.  
  
  


**********************************  


  
"Hey, I think this is it!" Tin Willow exclaimed, panting heavily because he was an addict.  
  
"Mnph mway," Furry Xander mumbled in response. He chewed and swallowed. "Oh, God.--"  
  
"Goddess," Tin Willow corrected.  
  
"--I thought there would be a whole lot more wacky hijinks before we got anywhere close to Precious String City." Furry Xander shook from fear. Tin Willow shook from withdrawal. Both looked up in wonder because indeed, before them stood a vast city, its skyscrapers sparkling glimmering green, with thin leather and cotton ropes wound around them and stretched between them like tightwires. The city's conversion from an emerald-based to a string-based economy was clearly not complete.  
  
"Buffy, what should we do? The gates are closed."  
  
"Huh?" Buffy extracted her tongue from Spikecrow's ear canal and spit out the errant pieces of straw. "Oh, we're here? Honey, put me down, I can't do anything up here."  
  
"Hardly fair, is it?" Spikecrow responded. "I've been 'up' here for the whole bleedin' journey, I've done plenty for you. Cor!" Buffy jumped down and decked Spikecrow for no apparent reason. "Bollocks, it's no use makin' with the sexual innuendo when everybody knows it's all talk. 'Cause I 'aven't got a cock, see? Balls!"  
  
"Aw, you've got those, silly!" Buffy ribbed playfully as she nuzzled his cheek in the same spot where she'd punched him not a moment before.  
  
Furry Xander took a momentary break from eating.  
  
"So, listen, Buffy, what should we do?" Tin Willow asked, impatiently shaking with need for the oil that must be available within city limits. "There's a gate, and it's closed."  
  
"Did you try knocking?" Buffy responded. Spikecrow smirked at that and leaned in close to whisper in Buffy's ear.  
  
"Knocking, right," Tin Willow affirmed. "I can do that." And he knocked on the door to the city.  
  
The gate swung open. A guard stood at the entryway, his thick folds of loose skin barely covered by the string bikini he wore. "Visitors! Welcome to our city!"  
  
"Clem?!" Buffy cried, incredulous. "What are you doing here? And, in a string bikini?" Spikecrow pulled Buffy closer, jealous that she was responding to another man showing so much skin, more skin than Spikecrow even had _to_ show, in fact.  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, although you seem to know my name somehow," Clem replied. "But won't you please make yourselves at home in our city?"  
  
"I'm Buffy? You came to my birthday party, then you couldn't leave?" Clem shook his head, apologetic. "Great, we've got an alterna-Clem, too. Except this one's still named Clem. Can this get any weirder?"  
  
As the four travelers proceeded through the gates into the city square, they found themselves surrounded by townspeople, men and women alike, large and small, young and old, all dressed in string bikinis. Within a moment of sighting the visitors, the townspeople burst into song.  
  
"That's such an old joke," Buffy sighed, "I really should have known better."  
  
_Death, death, death!  
  
_They sang,  
_  
Pain, pain, pain!  
And a mind-rape mutinous,  
That's why we cry the day away  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss.  
Lies, lies, lies,  
Secrets, too,  
And a fling that's scandalous,  
That's how this season's drama plays  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss.  
We flip out and try to kill all of our friends,  
Can't we kill ourselves before this madness ends?  
Oh, what a trend!  
  
Death, death, death!  
Pain, pain, pain!  
And a mind-rape mutinous,  
That's why we cry the day away,  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss.  
Death, death, death,  
Pain, pain pain,  
(Death, death, death, death!)  
And a mind-rape mutinous,  
That's why we cry the day away,  
With some death death death!  
Pain pain pain!  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss.  
  
Good deeds here,  
Save lives there,  
But you're morally ambiguous.  
That's why we made up demon eggs  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss.  
  
Power trips here,  
Insecurities there,  
But recovery's more virtuous.  
That's why the magic addiction's here  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss.  
  
It will take a lot to tie up these loose ends.  
Will we lose our edge like _ER_ or like _Friends_?  
Maybe!  
Oh, what a trend!  
  
Short quip here,  
Exposition there,  
Ignore our everyman--no big loss!  
Who needs that relief anyway  
From the Angsty Old Land of Joss! -- Death!  
  
Death death death-  
Pain pain pain-  
Death death death death-  
Death!  
That's why we cry the day away  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss  
And a death death death,  
Death death death death death  
Death death death death death death death death  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss  
Death death death pain pain pain--  
In the Angsty Old Land of Joss!_  
  
Buffy, Spikecrow, Tin Willow, and Furry Xander stood in stunned silence for a long moment. "Well," Buffy broke the silence, "that was..."  
  
"Depressing," Tin Willow finished.  
  
"Actually, I was going to say, illogical. Wasn't this the Land of Oz at the beginning of the story--um, journey? You know, named after the Wizard named Oz? And an awful lot of that song just didn't make sense in the context of our, um, journey, you know?"  
  
"Hush, now, love," Spikecrow soothed. "Have a little cultural sensitivity. 'Round these parts, standard practice is for people just to ignore all the plot holes so as not to draw attention to 'em. Then later on they might bring 'em up in a self-referential, jokey kind of way, but I think I've got that about covered by now, eh? Now give us a kiss and let's pretend this whole thing never happened. Cor!"  
  
And so, Buffy and Spikecrow kissed as the travelers entered Precious String City.


	9. The Wizard Named Oz

Author's Notes: I apologize for the long delay. Real life and all that. The story is now complete.  
  
I want to give a shout-out and thank you to **little bit **for some great suggestions and for making my first beta experience on these three chapters relatively painless.  
  
Enjoy!  
  


********************************  


  
Clem held tight to the reins (needless to say, a rather expensive piece of equipment in Precious String City these days) as he skillfully drove the old-fashioned horse and carriage down the narrow roads of the metropolis. Thankfully, none of the roads were purple.  
  
In the back of the carriage, Spikecrow continued possessively clutching Buffy to his side, peering through the window and suspiciously eying every male they passed. "Gratuitous male nudity," he muttered. "Bloody well must not have much of importance to say, if that's the only way they can get attention."  
  
"Aw, Spikey," Buffy soothed, running a finger seductively along his jaw line, "You could get naked, it wouldn't even be gratuitous. It'd be character development, or symbolic or something. If you stopped to think about it. Not that I'd be thinking. . . about. . ." With one of his skilled hands, Spikecrow gently turned Buffy's gaze away from the well-muscled, bikini-clad man on the sidewalk who had captured her attention and back to his own eyes. His other hand was otherwise occupied exploring places you'd never expect straw to be. "Now talk to me about gratuitous," she grinned.  
  
Tin Willow leaned forward past the entwined couple, shaking nervously. "Hey, Clem, I'm kinda getting rusty--did you hear that squeak? I'm really gonna need some oil soon, so, uh, are we there yet?"  
  
"No, my metal friend, we're still not there yet," Clem replied with infinite patience. "Just a few more minutes. Would you like some snacks? I've got some delicious string cheese stowed under the back seat there. And Twizzlers!"  
  
"Furry Xander already found them and ate them all," Tin Willow pouted.  
  
"I'm hungry!" came a strangled wail from the back. Breaking down, Furry Xander whimpered something about "mama" and "zebras" in a muffled sob too quiet for the others to hear.  
  
"Maybe you'd enjoy coloring?" Clem suggested. "I've got crayons!"  
  
"No," Tin Willow sighed, "I found those, too, and they got broken. And y'know, tears aren't good for my rust situation. Oh, and then Furry Xander ate the broken crayons, too. 'Broken ones aren't bad for you,' he said," Tin Willow mocked in a deep false voice. He paused a moment, looking out at the road ahead, but his shaking never ceased. "Hey, Clem, are we there yet? Because I need some oil. Urgently. Why are there no gas stations in this city anyway?"  
  
"This is a magical town," Clem replied amiably, "so we don't use internal combustion engines most of the time, even though they really would be rather helpful." Tin Willow's left eye twitched inexplicably at the mention of magic.  
  
"Are we there yet?"  
  


*******************************  


Five excruciatingly long minutes later, the carriage pulled up in front of an ordinary-looking, modest townhouse. "Here we are!" Clem announced cheerfully, his patience apparently still unruffled. "Home of the Wizard named Oz." Before Clem could even draw a breath to tell the legend of the Wizard's arrival in Precious String City, all four travelers were on the front step, knocking insistently on the door.  
  
"Oil can! Oil can!"  
  
"I need cock!"  
  
"Sooo huuuunnnnngryyyy!"  
  
"Hello, Mr. Wizard?" Buffy shouted above the din, "My name is Buffy Summers and I really need your help!"  
  
"Buffy, hey!" The door swung open and the entire entourage toppled forward into the house.  
  
Buffy quickly straightened and looked up to see. . . "Oz?"  
  
"Wasn't that part obvious all along?" Oz replied with his standard stoic expression.  
  
"Yeah, but, Oz? You know who I am?"  
  
"Of course. We went to high school together, bit of college, fought evil. Hard to forget." He gestured to the small crowd standing in the front hall. "Come on into the living room, all of you, make yourselves comfortable."  
  
"So you're really really Oz?" Buffy questioned, still slightly incredulous, as she settled into Spikecrow's lap. Oz nodded. "It's just that, I keep running into weird döppelgangers in this dimension. Oh! You haven't been introduced. Oz, this is Spikecrow," she smiled into her consort's gaze, and waved her hand idly at the others. "And Furry Xander, and Tin Willow."  
  
"Mini wiener?" Oz offered, staring into Tin Willow's eyes as he gestured to the trays of hors'd'oerves on the coffee table (which were disappearing rapidly as Furry Xander was already devouring them). After a moment, Tin Willow broke eye contact, looked down and idly shifted his squeaky right knee. _Squeak squeak_. "Oh, gosh," he muttered to himself. "Male now, remember, male now."  
  
"So, Oz," Buffy turned back to her old friend, "how in the world did you end up here?"  
  
"Funny story," Oz replied. "I was hiking in Tibet, doing the soul-searching thing. One day I fell through a dimensional portal and ended up here. It was a bit of a shock, but I adjusted."   
  
"And you're a wizard now?"  
  
"Not exactly. The local press were all over it when I arrived. I mentioned I once dated a witch. But you know, small towns and strange rumors."  
  
"Ah," Buffy nodded, understanding. Then her tone turned more urgent. "But you never found a way home again? Because I was kind of hoping to get back home. Not that my Spikey here doesn't please me just as much as my Spikey back home," she backpedaled, smoothing Spikecrow's hair, "and in _almost_ as many ways."  
  
"'Cause I haven't got a cock, y'see," Spikecrow muttered quietly.  
  
Buffy continued, ignoring the interruption. "And it's not like I have anything else to live for. But, I really need to get home because that's the whole premise of the story and it would be incredibly lame to back out now. Plus I'm starting to really miss Giles."  
  
"Everybody misses Giles," Oz agreed. "But about getting home. I've done some research. The only way to get there is to use something called 'The Key.' It's an ancient ball of energy that breaks down walls between dimensions."  
  
"The Key?" Buffy giggled with relief. "No problem. That's just Dawn. I guess it's true what they say, sometimes everything you need is right in your own back yard."  
  
"Dawn?" Oz queried.  
  
"Dawn, my sister. You remember Dawn, don't you? Or didn't the monks make it as far as Tibet with the false memories? You'd think with all you hear about 'Tibetan monks' somebody would delegate the job to a branch office or something. Damn monks and their shoddy half-assed work."  
  
"No, Buffy, I remember Dawn," Oz reassured her. "She's just not here."  
  
"Dawn?" Buffy cried, suddenly alarmed. "Oh, God--"  
  
"Goddess!" Tin Willow interjected, even as he continued staring at his lap and compulsively squeaking his knee.  
  
"We lost our Key?" Furry Xander grinned as he popped the last few appetizers into his mouth. "Okay, let's go through this logically. Does anybody remember where we last saw her? What were we doing?"  
  
Spikecrow smirked at Buffy. "I've got a fair idea what _we_ were--" Buffy decked him and stood up off his lap.  
  
"Glory! Giles said before all this started that a deranged hellgod would seek the Key in another dimension. God--dess," she hastened to add the last syllable, "why can't I remember these important details in the _middle_ of the journey? I've got to do something about this bizarre memory problem. Maybe I should start taking ginkgo. I think ginkgo is the memory one. Unless ginkgo is the one that's supposed to prevent aging. I can never rememb--"  
  
"Is this ginkgo a food? And do we have some?" Furry Xander interrupted, having finally finished eating all of the mini-wieners.  
  
"There's a roast in the kitchen," Oz said. "Help yourself."  
  
"Wizard named Oz, I think I love you!" Furry Xander cried, already through the door.  
  
"About this Glory," Oz brought things back on topic. "I think I know her. Around here she's known as the Wicked Bitch of the West. Very powerful. Lots of warty flying-monkey minions."  
  
"Warty flying monkeys, of course!" Tin Willow jumped up, enthused that he could finally contribute. "I don't remember seeing Dawn since those warty flying monkeys swooped down randomly, then disappeared. They must have taken her!"  
  
"That's it, then. We have to go rescue Dawn from the Wicked Bitch before she can open up the gates of hell again. Oh, goody, I just love pointlessly rehashing old storylines," Buffy concluded sardonically.  
  
"So where do we find the Wicked Bitch?" Tin Willow asked. "What can we do to stop her?"  
  
"She's got a ritzy little castle just outside the city," Oz said.   
"I know the way. Let's go." Spikecrow, no longer just sitting there looking pretty but actually helpful in the hour of need, rounded up Furry Xander from the kitchen, roast in hand, while Buffy and Tin Willow got a head start following Oz out the front door.  
  
"Where'd Clem go?" Buffy wondered idly as they hustled down the street. "Funny he brought us here then just disappeared without any kind of explanation."


	10. Problems? Solved.

"Dawn!" Buffy cried as she broke down the door to Glory's chamber, a pile of warty monkey minion corpses in her wake. Oz, Tin Willow, and the others filed in behind her, and the group stood by the door, facing the Wicked Bitch, who held an oversized puppy in a tight headlock at the opposite end of the room.  
  
"So you finally remembered me," Dawn intoned sullenly. "Just in time for Glory to try to kill me. Again."  
  
Glory gently stroked Dawn's shiny, luxuriant brown fur. "Oh, Key-puppy, it's nothing personal. I'm just trying to get home. I don't much care who I have to kill to get there. Now hold still a minute." With each stroke of Dawn's hair, she chanted, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home." In an instant, a violent red vortex swirled up around Glory's shiny red stiletto heels, pulling her and her warty minions (corpses and all) down into it. "A ha!" Glory cackled as she melted out of sight, "That's so much more efficient than the whole ritual bloodletting thing!"  
  
And she was gone.  
  
That's it?" Tin Willow questioned, incredulous. "_That_ was the Wicked Bitch? Did anybody even care what happened to her? She didn't even kill anyone. _I_ would've made a better Wicked Bitch than that." Tin Willow sank into the chair at Glory's abandoned vanity table and examined himself in the mirror. "Come to think of it, I feel like I really should have been a wicked bitch or something. You know, great big bad force of darkness. This Tin Man with an addiction thing is kind of a copout, dontcha think?  
  
"Oh, Tin Willow, it's never too late," Buffy soothed. "Your story could change all of a sudden, really late in the game. You never really know, y'know? Some day you might just fall off the wagon and slick a lot of crude oil on top of your head to signify that the petroleum products have taken over your body and soul or something crazy like that."  
  
"Mmm hmmmm," Tin Willow nodded, mesmerized by the thought of bathing in all that crude oil.  
  
"Hey, that reminds me," Buffy said. "Oz, I promised all my friends here that you would try to help them with their problems. Now, I know you're not really a wizard, but you're still one of the smartest people I know. Do you think you could try to help?"  
  
"I'll give it my best shot," Oz nodded.  
  
"'Ere, me first," Spikecrow stepped up, "I've been hangin' about the longest. But not hangin' so well." He raised an eyebrow and smirked, but received no response. "Right then, see, trouble is, I haven't got a cock. Got this whole little song and dance number, if you like." He cleared his throat. "_I could while away the hours_--"  
  
"No need for that," Oz cut him off, already understanding the problem because he was so remarkably intelligent. "It's really all very simple. Only porn stars and hens have 'cocks.' You're not a porn star."  
  
"But Buffy said that I--"  
  
"Please don't finish that sentence," Oz cut him off again, mercifully sparing everyone present from hearing details no clean-minded person would care to know. "You might have a penis, Spikecrow; I haven't looked. But you're never going to have a cock."  
  
"Bloody hell!" Spikecrow shouted, enraged. "I'm never going to have what it takes to please this bleeding woman! That's it. I'm going to Antarctica. Maybe somebody there can give me a cock."  
  
"Antarctica?!" Buffy exclaimed. "You're leaving me to go to some lame ass continent that has nothing to do with anything because you think that's what I want? Whatever, Spikecrow. Have fun with the penguins." But he was already gone.  
  
"One down," Tin Willow intoned ominously from his seat at the vanity table.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"My turn now!" he expanded, jumping up to face Oz and Buffy. "Oz, please, I need some oil, very badly. I'm all squeaky and rusty. I need it, I really, really need it bad!" He stretched out his wavering hands in supplication. "So bad I've got the shakes, see?"   
  
"Tin Willow," Oz sighed, grasping the other man's shaking hands in his own. "I don't think oil is what you really need. I think maybe you crave oil because you're sublimating your true desire for love."  
  
Tin Willow stammered and looked away, "N-n-no, I don't think that's it. I think I need oil. Hear that squeak? I'm not sublimating any desire for love."  
  
"Gay love?" Oz whispered, intertwining his fingers with the tin man's. Their eyes met, random romantic music swelled in the background, and they embraced. "I love you, Tin Willow."  
  
"I love you, Oz."  
  
"It's so sweet!" Buffy sobbed into Dawn's shoulder. "Just when my love life is falling apart, theirs is just beginning!"  
  
"Why can't I ever find a gay lover in an alternate dimension?" Dawn whined. Buffy shot her a look. "Yeah, okay, I went a step too far with the complaining that time, even I'll admit that. But I still think I'm owed a big-time apology about the puppy dog thing."  
  
Oz and Tin Willow stepped back from their embrace and held each other for a moment at arm's length. "What about Furry Xander?" Oz inquired. "Didn't he want my help with something?"  
  
"Furry Xander!" Buffy called, still sniffling slightly. "Where did he go?"  
  
Dawn sniffed the air as casually as she could. "He's hiding over there, behind the door," she said. "Dog, remember? I'm still waiting for my apology."  
  
Sure enough, Buffy pulled Furry Xander out from behind the door and deposited him in front of Oz. "Go on, tell Oz why you came here." Furry Xander just sat, quivering, on the floor as phantom images from long ago swirled in his mind.  
_  
"Bring me a rich, meaty giraffe, or do not dare to show your face here! I should have mated a lioness who could provide for me!"  
  
"I tried, sir, truly, I--"  
  
"Your meager offerings do not please me! Take your furry little runt and get out of my sight!"  
  
_

  


Furry Xander stammered, "N-n-no, I won't, I can't ask him. I won't be so cruel, Oz is good to me, please, no."  
  
"You came all this way, and now that the moment is here you're afraid to ask for what you want because you think it will be cruel to me?" Oz questioned. "That doesn't make any sense at all. I want to be your friend, Furry Xander. Please tell me what's going on in your mind."  
  
"M-m-mama!" Furry Xander blubbered, "Z-zebra, get out, he c-c-called me furry little r-r-r." He broke into incoherent sobs.  
  
"Huh. So, you wanna talk about some of this kittenhood trauma and possibly deal with some of your troubles instead of just running away? C'mon back to the townhouse with me and Tin Willow. Everybody in Precious String City keeps making me Beefy Noodle Casserole day and night because they think I like it, so we'll have plenty to eat while we talk things out."  
  
Furry Xander looked up at Oz through tear-filled eyes. "Can I be your new gay lover, too?" He grinned. "Kidding, only kidding. But thank you. That sounds wonderful." Furry Xander, Tin Willow, and Oz proceeded toward the door to leave Glory's castle behind for good, content in their new arrangement.  
  
"Hold on," Buffy interrupted. "Oz, it's wonderful that you were able to step in and solve everybody's problems with relatively little build up or conflict, and I thank you for that, but--what about me?" Dawn cleared her throat, although it came out as more of a yelp. "Me and the puppy? Glory used the Key, so now we're stuck here. And there's no Slayer in Sunnydale, and there's no Giles here. This is like Hell. I need to get home. Surely you have another miraculous solution up your sleeve."  
  
Oz turned back to face Buffy. "What makes you think Dawn isn't the Key anymore? What kind of keys do you know that stop working after you use them once?"  
  
"Well, that is a good point," Buffy conceded.  
  
"You saw how the Wicked Bitch used the Key to return to her home dimension. You know what to do. Come on back to the house with us. We'll catch up a bit more, and then you can go home as soon as you feel ready."  
  
"Thanks, Oz," Buffy grinned. "You really have solved all of our problems. You're even more helpful than Riley's wi--no, wait, I mean, you've been really, really helpful. Y'know, I'm kinda short on money--nah, never mind, I'd never ask for help with that." With the discussion thus concluded, Buffy linked arms with the trio by the door, all of whom promptly _un_-linked in order to fit through the door. And so they pranced back to Precious String City, little Dawn Puppy scampering behind, all singing,  
  
_We all adore the Wizard  
The wonderful Wizard named Oz!_  
  


*****************************  


Late that evening, after all the emotional goodbyes had been said, Oz and Tin Willow cuddled together on the couch while Furry Xander curled up, finally sated, in his new hammock. Buffy stood by the door, her arm wrapped around Dawn's furry shoulders.  
  
"So I guess this is it."  
  
"Ready to go home, Dawn?" The puppy nodded. Buffy gently stroked her fur, chanting, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home. . . ."


	11. There's No Place Like Home.

"There's no place like home, no place like home, no place like. . ."  
  
"Buffy, Buffy, come back to us," a deep voice soothed.  
  
"Giles?" Buffy opened her eyes and grinned from ear to ear. "Giles, it's really you, I'm really home!" She shifted to sit up in bed, her own bed in her own room. "Oh, you wouldn't believe the crazy weird dimension I was in. There were so many funny people, and singing, and Dawn turned into a dog-girl, and I nearly had to fight Glory again. And you were there, and all made of metal!" she cried, noticing her best friend beside her. Willow furrowed her brow in response to this odd news, although inwardly she was glad that she'd had nothing to do with pulling Buffy out of the strange dimension she described. She resumed idly Bedazzling Buffy's pillowcase.  
  
One by one, Buffy turned and remarked upon each of her friends who had gathered around her bedside. "And you, you were a lion, and you, a scarecrow who really wasn't scary at all!" to Xander and Spike. Xander beamed, but Spike's ever expressive face changed from wide-eyed chin-wavering joy at Buffy's return to a resentful scowl at being told he wasn't scary.  
  
"And you!" Buffy chirped, noticing Clem in the corner, nonchalantly munching on Bugles, "You were just you." Clem nodded jovially as Buffy continued speaking so rapidly her friends could barely keep up. "And Tara, you were there, but not very often, and I really wished I'd seen you more because you were way cool, and Giles, you weren't there and that seemed so wrong, I missed you terribly. Anya, for some reason, also wasn't there and that doesn't make any sense, but anyway I learned so much, especially from you, Spike--" she winked, "--so now I know now it's best just to ignore anything that doesn't make sense. And I've learned that sometimes the one thing you really need is conveniently built into your little sister. And sometimes all it takes to solve all your problems is the arrival of someone's ex-boyfriend. And you should be careful what you say in small towns because you never really know what kind of crazy rumors will get started. And most keys can actually be used multiple times. And, and--" Buffy broke off, noticing the stricken expression on Giles's face. "What's wrong?"  
  
"What about Dawn? Buffy, what happened to her?"  
  
"Dawn? Well, first she turned into a great big puppy-girl, then Glory abducted her and rubbed her fur and said 'There's no place like home' to open a vortex to her own dimension. Later I did the same thing and here I am, safe and sound at home. Why? Where is she? I need to start keeping her on a leash if she keeps getting lost like this," Buffy joked.  
  
"You may have to," Giles said, lifting a furry bundle from under his chair and placing the scampering dull brown mass in Buffy's lap. "Recognize this little lady?"  
  
"Dawn?" Buffy inquired, lifting the little terrier pup to stare into its eyes.  
  
"You were holding her in your arms when you came back to us," Giles explained.  
  
"Hey," Xander suggested, immediately adjusting to the situation, "now we can call her Scrappy Doo. You know, because we're the Scooby gang and she's our adorable puppy sidekick. Before it would have just implied that she was useless, and she wouldn't stand for that."  
  
"So Dawn is trapped in the body of a puppy now?" Buffy asked, slightly befuddled.  
  
"Not exactly," Willow replied, breathing deeply as she looked up from her Bedazzling to explain what happened. "See, the incantation you did is designed to return people to their own home dimension. But the Key doesn't belong to this dimension per se. Just the fleshy parts originated here, and came back."  
  
Buffy gaped. "You mean, _my_ flesh and blood that the monks used to create Dawn. So now this puppy is made out of me? That's pretty disturbing."  
  
"Indeed," Giles replied, studiously cleaning his glasses.  
  


**************************  


As the evening wore on, Buffy continued to regale the whole gang with the story of her adventures in the Land of Oz. After a short while, though, she jumped up in shock, noting to her dismay that she had come back wrong. Instead of her stylish yet affordable red leather skirt and perhaps slightly overpriced but no less fashionable hot pink chenille tank top, Buffy was clad in a blue and white gingham jumper with a ruffled white dickey. Her hair was in braids. She shrieked and shouted, "What kind of evil fashion nazi would dress me in such an atrocity?!"  
  
A few minutes later when Buffy was suitably attired, the Scoobies reconvened in the dining room to hear the rest of the tale, Scrappy Doo under the table yelping and whining for attention all the while. Everyone laughed and scoffed at the idea of a straw man who wanted a cock, a tin man addicted to oil, and a lion who just kept getting puffier and puffier even while he was afraid to pursue the one thing he knew he wanted. And they were all surprised to learn of what had become of their old friend Oz. "Who woulda thunk it?" Willow mused, "Oz and I used to be so in love, and we're both gay now!" She caressed Tara's breasts to prove her point, even though the two had broken up months before.  
  
As the hour grew later and the supply of little marshmallows for the hot chocolate grew short, the crowd began to disperse. Giles, Xander, Tara, and Clem returned to their respective homes, and Willow retreated, yawning, to her cushy rent-free master bedroom suite upstairs.  
  
Only Spike and Buffy remained, standing awkwardly on the front porch where they had just seen off the others. (Scrappy Doo had much earlier curled up to sleep in Dawn's old room as if very little had changed.)  
  
"Well, pet," Spike said, "looks like it's just us."  
  
"There is no 'us,'" Buffy retorted unconvincingly.  
  
"Yeah," Spike stepped closer so they stood mere inches apart, both breathing heavily. "That's why you've been shaggin' me in effigy all day, or very nearly so. Bet you've been missin' my cock," he said, reaching for her hand and pulling it toward him.  
  
"Oh, you're cocky, all right," she quipped. "Remember what Oz said? Only porn stars have cocks."  
  
Spike quirked his eyebrow and chuckled faintly. "Well, love, there was that one time in the seventies. . . ."  
  
  
_Someone out on her front porch ditched her cross,  
A vampire's back she's a-scratchin',  
And using his tongue to floss.  
Someone up in her bedroom is  
Now a pet.  
And the Watcher who we all love  
Hasn't dared leave yet.  
Someday we'll tune into the show  
And find ill-thought-out plots are nowhere near us.  
No more scenes at the Doublemeat,  
Some happiness instead we'll greet,  
Sweet Xan will cheer us.  
Somewhere in California,  
Marti's boss.  
I wrote a fun little story,  
Why, then - oh, why won't Joss?  
If I can write these characters  
A happy ending,  
Why, oh, why won't Joss?_


End file.
